


Remembrance

by Brumeier



Series: Bite Sized Fic [68]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Language of Flowers, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6909484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ Comment Fic for Flower Language prompt: <i>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, yellow zinnia (daily remembrance)</i></p><p>In which Bucky suffers a loss and Steve is there to help him through it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remembrance

_Seeking to forget makes exile all the longer; the secret of redemption lies in remembrance._ – Richard von Weizsaecker

Steve put the finishing touches on the sidewalk display in front of the shop. There was a little round wrought iron table in front of the window, with two chairs, right by the _Free WiFi_ sign. The planter stand was full of yellow zinnias, available in arrangements or potted. They made a nice spot of color, certain to catch the eye. 

When Bucky had been in Afghanistan, Steve had kept a potted yellow zinnia in the front window of the shop. Sometimes real, sometimes silk, depending on the season, but always there. Yellow for remembrance, as if Steve could’ve forgotten Bucky for one minute of one day.

“Good morning, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve turned, a big smile on his face. “Good morning, Kelsey. Happy Friday!”

The young girl blushed. She was on her way to school, decked out in her skirt-and-polo uniform, big blue backpack hanging over her shoulders. She nodded her head at the display.

“What do they mean?”

Ever since Steve had told her that flowers had a language, based on type and color, she always asked when a new display went up. Steve was always happy to foster an interest in flowers.

“Those are zinnias. The yellow ones are reminders of our friends and family who can’t be with us right now.”

“Like yellow ribbons for soldiers?” Kelsey asked.

“Just like that,” Steve replied. He popped one of the blooms off and tucked it into the strap on her backpack, which made her blush again.

“Thanks, Mr. Rogers!”

“Have a good day today.” Steve waved at her, and watched to make sure she made it safely to the bus stop.

When he turned back around to go in the shop he gave a little start. Bucky was sitting at the table, face shadowed by the black hoodie he was wearing. He was really good at sneaking around like a ninja.

“You know I have a bad ticker, right?” Steve kept his tone light and joking, but he didn’t make a move towards the table. Bucky’s posture was giving off serious _back off, motherfucker_ vibes. He had no idea why Bucky’d even left his apartment if he was feeling that bad.

“Who’re you remembering?” Bucky asked, his voice so soft Steve had to strain to hear him.

“My mom. Your mom.” Winnie Barnes had died while Bucky was overseas. Brain aneurysm, so quick and unexpected that there hadn’t been time to do anything but call the coroner. Steve was still heart-broken; Winnie had been a second mother to him growing up. “Friends.”

He approached the table slowly, and slid into the other chair. Now that he had a better view of Bucky’s face, Steve could see that his eyes were red-rimmed.

“What happened, Buck?” 

Bucky licked his lips and seemed to retreat even further into himself. Once upon a time, Steve would’ve let him do that without calling him on it. But ever since the kiss, things had changed between them. 

Steve extended his hand, left it palm up on the table. Bucky stared at it for a long, long moment, and then tentatively reached out and slotted his fingers alongside Steve’s. It was longer still before he had anything to say.

“I lost a friend.” The words were hushed, and there was a tremor in Bucky’s stubbled chin that had Steve tightly squeezing his hand.

“I’m sorry.” Steve didn’t need to ask to know that the friend was one from Bucky’s time in the Army.

“He couldn’t handle it,” Bucky said. He squeezed Steve’s hand in return, so hard it hurt.

Steve knew well enough what that meant. Bucky’s friend had taken his own life, sadly not an uncommon choice for soldiers, current and former. Steve looked at the flowers behind Bucky, bright and hopeful and beautiful. _Remembrance_.

“Tell me about him.” 

And for an hour Bucky did just that, never letting go of Steve’s hand, and in the telling he seemed to find a little peace. Some days that was more than a person could hope for.


End file.
